


Carry On, Penelope and Agatha

by smolprince



Category: Carry On - Rainbow Rowell
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-16
Updated: 2016-02-18
Packaged: 2018-05-21 00:15:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6031105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smolprince/pseuds/smolprince
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Several years after Watford...Agatha's a mess. Penny is slammed with life. The two move in together in California, just a few streets from Baz and Simon. They become close friends again, and Penny tries to help Agatha get her life back on track. Meanwhile, the merpeople are getting angry and a mage is going to help them rise up against the Normals. Baz and Penny get out the whiteboard, and then someone is kidnapped. It's up to the remaining three to save their friend and humanity.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 101 harper street

“We’re just a few streets over, Simon,” I say.  
Simon is biting his lip nervously as he stares at my new apartment. He’s so childish sometimes.  
“You can call,” I continue. “Or walk over.”  
Baz takes Simon’s hand and kisses him on the cheek. I might gag.  
“Bunce’s right. They’ll be just fine,” he says.  
Agatha rolls her eyes and takes the key from my hand. Her eyes are red and there are circles under her eyes. Dark and purple that contrast with her pale skin.  
That’s partially why I wanted to move in with her. She hasn’t been sleeping much lately and is always distracted. She fidgets and even started smoking. I have to know what’s going on.  
Agatha puts the key in the lock and turns it clockwise. The gray door opens and we are welcomed into our new home with cardboard boxes and furniture in odd places.  
“Glorious,” Agatha says sarcastically as she enters. She flips her hair and sits in the only chair.  
She just moved out of her college dorm, so we only have my furniture.  
Even sleep-deprived and drug-addicted, Agatha is a goddess. Summer weather means she wears long, flowing skirts and crop tops. She pierced her belly button, too. I notice the way her perfume fills the room, covering up the smoky underlaying scent. I notice how she looks uncertain before putting on a smile. I notice the way she tucks her hair behind her ear and stands up straight.  
I notice all the ways she hides the fact that she’s falling apart inside.

It’s a Friday.  
“Let’s go out!” Agatha says, pulling at my hands.  
I’m in my bed in pajamas, reading a book on goblins.  
“I’m good, thanks,” I say.  
“No! It’s a Friday! We should live!”  
“I am tired, Agatha. We’re still moving in. There are thousands of unpacked boxes everywhere. We can’t afford any substantial food, much less going out. And you need a job.”  
Agatha sighs and sits down on my bed. “Fine, Penny. But let’s unpack at least. Do something productive.”  
“Okay.”  
I swing my legs over the bed and set my book down. “Unpack, and then we can have tea.”  
“You can have tea. I’m having a beer.”  
“Whatever.”  
My boxes are filled with random objects: pots and pans, a floor vase, picture frames, tea mugs, jumpers, a pocketknife, necklaces and rings, an elephant figurine, just to name a few.  
I put things away. The pots and pans and plates go into cupboards. Agatha almost drops a plate and her eyes fill with tears. Then, her hands shake.  
“Agatha, it’s okay,” I tell her. “No one’s perfect.”  
But she just tucks a piece of hair behind her ear and smiles quickly. She’s been perfect her whole life. One slip up and the world ends for her.  
We don't use magic a lot, which is why we’re unpacking the boxes by hand. Agatha is trying to escape it, and I’m worried the neighbors will notice something. I mostly use it to read at night or fix my hair.  
Soon, everything is in its place. I make tea on the stove and Agatha fetches a beer from the fridge.  
We sit outside on our patio. We don’t have chairs so we sit cross-legged on the ground. I watch Agatha’s face as she looks at the sky. Her eyes widen and her face is calmer. Her hands don’t shake and she is smiling slightly.  
“I love the stars,” she says quietly.  
I take a sip of tea.  
“Me, too. Although it makes me feel quite insignificant, I have to admit. Like whatever I do is meaningless because there is so much more than me.”  
Agatha nods. “That’s what I like about it. It makes me feel like I don’t have to do anything significant. I can just live my life and I don’t have to move mountains.”  
“But you’ll help me take over the world.” I smile.  
She laughs. “Of course, Penny. What are friends for?”  
Her voice is still shaky, however, and she won’t meet my eyes. I look at her, study her. Nothing adds up.  
“Agatha?”  
“Mmhm?”  
“Are you…okay?”  
She sighs and takes a swig of her beer. Then she pulls her lighter and a pack of cigarettes out of her jacket pocket and lights one. She takes a drag on it and sighs again.  
“I have to tell you something, Penelope.”  
“Okay.”  
“I’m…” Agatha takes a deep breath. “I’m asexual and aromantic.”  
“Okay.”  
“You’re…okay with that?”  
“Of course. You’re my friend. Just because you’re not straight doesn’t mean you’re any different to me. We just moved in together—it’s not like I can’t be okay with it!”  
She smiles. “Right. One-oh-one Harper Street. It’s ours. For some reason, it doesn’t feel real.”  
“I get that.”  
I finish my tea.  
“But it is. Let’s go inside, Agatha. It’s getting chilly.”  
I stand up and offer her a hand.  
“I think I’ll stay out a bit longer.”  
I leave her and go upstairs. I brush my teeth and am closing my windows. Agatha is still out there. I see the light of her cigarette and shake my head.


	2. on a sunny beach in california-a prologue story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for the people who read and left kudos! i honestly didn't think anyone would read this. i'm trying to update more, but it will mostly be a chapter each week unless i have less hw.
> 
> also: this chapter is a prologue to chap. 1. all of these events happened before the beginning. (in future revisions, this might be first, but just bear with me)

“I’m sorry I ran, Penny.”  
There is regret in her voice. She regrets not being a better friend, she says. She regrets closing herself up and being too perfect. She wants to take it all back. She wants to be braver and stronger and love better.  
I saw her on the beach—the first day of summer, and I needed some sun. There she was, skin a little tanner, hair a little blonder.  
“Hey,” I said, like I’d seen her just yesterday, instead of years ago.  
Agatha moved to a sitting position and looked at me with a quizzical expression.  
“What are you doing here?” she asked.  
“We decided to move to the States. Change it up a bit, y’know?”  
“That’s nice.”  
She didn’t want to talk—I could see that plain as day. But I hadn’t seen her in ages. So I convinced her to put on a skirt and tank top over her bikini and have tea with me. So I can get answers.  
“It’s just—” Agatha combs her hair back with her hand. “Watford, England…too many memories. Too many years wasted there. I was stupid, Penny. But I am sorry, truly. No one deserves to have someone leave like that.”  
I nod. I want her to know that it’s safe now, that she’s safe now.  
“How have you been?” I ask.  
She’s been good. She teaches kids how to ride horses. She goes to therapy. She has this part of her that’s different, she tells me. Something isn’t right inside. Something that hasn’t been right for a while. Her therapist is helping her figure it out. She has friends. She goes out dancing, and on weekends she goes on hikes.  
She’s forgotten most spells. Magic has left her voice. She isn’t sad when she says that. It reminds me more of relief.  
She had a boyfriend for a few months. No, more than a few. Closer to nine. But that feeling, she said. She had that feeling. So she got out and she sees him at bars and puts on brighter lipstick.  
“You know, you should visit sometime,” I say.  
Agatha looks unsettled. “I don't think I can. The boys…”  
I go out on a limb. My voice becomes soft. “They miss you, Agatha.”  
“Even Baz?” Her voice isn’t much louder than mine.  
I nod. “Even Baz.”  
We talked about her sometimes. Simon would have his feet on the coffee table, and Baz would scold him, and then we’d be quiet for a moment before someone—usually Simon—would say, “I wonder what Agatha’s up to.”  
“Flying over the moon on a horse,” Baz would say first.  
“She gave up magic, you dimwit!” I’d say.  
“Serving ice cream.”  
“Dancing to her favorite song.”  
“Sleeping, considering the time difference.” Baz again.  
“Watching butterflies.”  
“Daydreaming.”  
And the list would go on and on.  
Agatha shakes her head. Bites her lip. “I—I can’t, Penny. Too soon. Let me give you my number. I’ll text you if I feel like it.”  
We exchange numbers and Agatha has to leave.  
We have nothing in common. Except for maybe badassness and the boys.  
I hope she calls.

She calls. I’m in one of my night classes. It’s half a year since I gave her my number. I excuse myself and step out into the chilly night.  
“Penny!” Relief floods through Agatha’s voice.  
“What’s up?”  
“I need you to come get me!”  
“Are you okay?”  
I’m already walking to my car.  
“I don’t know.”  
“What happened?”  
“My landlord just kicked me out and I have nowhere to go. I’m not okay, Penny, I’m not okay. I haven’t been for a while.”  
“Address. Talk to me while I go, okay?”  
“7713 Pilo Avenue. Flat A.”  
She hiccups and goes silent for a second and my heart speeds up.  
“Keep talking, Agatha!”  
She’s crying. “Okay, okay! Um, I…Just after we saw each other, at the beach you know, I had a falling out with my friends and I tried to—to kill myself. I went to the hospital and they said I have depression. I’m still recovering. I’m horrible, Penny, I’m horrible. I’m gross and ugly and no one loves me and sometimes I can’t get out of bed in the morning…”  
Agatha goes on like this, hiccuping and crying and telling me how she hates herself. It takes all I have not to cry, and not to magick myself to her house. Agatha would hate that, I know.  
Finally, I see her on a corner with a suitcase spilling with things. She’s smoking and the light of the cigarette is how I see her. I put her things in the trunk and force her to not smoke in my car.  
It’s painful to see her like this, but I realize I have to accept it. This is Agatha now.


End file.
